Being whipped on the bottom by a 65-year-old man would normally be considered far too kinky and embarrassing to talk about in public. But when this little ritual occurs at the top of an alp it is regarded as perfectly normal.

The peak in question is Mount Triglav, the highest point in Slovenia and its mountain range, the Julian Alps. The guidebook had mentioned that those reaching the summit for the first time were likely to be birched, but it sounded like a myth.

Not so. On a sunny September morning, I found myself clambering up Triglav on a hiking holiday in this lush and lovely country, which escaped the Balkan conflict that engulfed neighbouring Croatia and Bosnia in the Nineties. I was one of a motley threesome that had teamed up spontaneously to bag the mountain: the others were Ralph, an unemployed German economist in his thirties, and 65-year-old Milan, a Slovenian psychologist from the capital Ljubljana.

We arrived at the top just in time to see an Austrian being whacked on the backside with a climbing rope, watched by clusters of jovial Slovenes applauding and singing a folk song in approval. Before we could even take a picture of the fabulous view or nibble a celebratory muesli bar, Milan had borrowed the rope and put first me and then Ralph over his knee for a ritual Triglav thrashing.

Can you imagine such behaviour in Snowdonia or the Lake District? Outrageous.

In Slovenia it was just another casual laugh to contribute to the genial, party atmosphere that prevails on top of Triglav most mornings in good weather as dozens of Slovenes, and usually a handful of tourists, follow the well-worn route to the top.

Climbing Triglav is something of a Slovenian tradition and akin to a patriotic rite of passage for the young - the downside is the presence of small memorials dotting the route, marking the point at which teenagers climbing alone or in groups have been swept off by avalanche or stumbled to their deaths.

The Slovenes dubbed the mountain 'Old Mr Three Heads' centuries ago when its lumpy summit was thought to represent a triple-headed deity that ruled the sky, the earth and the underworld. Its 2,863-metre peak was first scaled in 1778 and features prominently on the national flag.

Milan was ascending for the 49th time, having first made the summit at 13. Ralph and I had met the night before in the spartan mountain hostel three-quarters of the way up the mountain over goulash with macaroni and sausages - perfect examples of the culinary influences of Slovenia's neighbours, Hungary, Italy and Austria.

Most people trying for Triglav stay at the hostel after a day's steep trek up from lush pasture, through pine woods, past scree and sheer limestone to the little hut offering food and a bunk.

We set off for the top at 6.30 the following morning, heading into clear blue sky with the rising sun. Milan, a veteran of Mont Blanc, Kilimanjaro and 49 previous assaults on Triglav went first. We hauled ourselves up by a series of metal spikes and cables, embedded in the rock by the army on military exercises years ago. Milan stopped for us to rest and survey the spectacular surrounding peaks, blue in the early morning with traces of snow. The sunlight reflected off the beautiful Lake Bled in the valley miles below, resembling a shining, silver penny.

'Amazing,' I said.

'Amazing Grace!' he said eccentrically and started whistling it. He held his arms out as if to embrace his homeland. 'I feel like the Queen! Call me Elizabeth!' he shouted from under his purple bobble hat.

A gasping Ralph brought up the rear. He had already moaned about his beer gut holding him back and a lack of sleep on account of all the blokes in his dormitory snoring. He looked rough. 'I'm hanging in there... like a boxer,' he panted, leaning heavily on the cables. 'I think this is the first time I climb Triglav - and the last.'

Milan tutted as we precariously picked our way up the steep rock past the memorials. 'These shouldn't be up here, they should be down in the valley,' he said. The mountain is a pimple compared with the likes of Mont Blanc, which is almost 2,000 metres higher. But people still die on Triglav each year.

The Julian Alps were named for Julius Caesar, after the Romans annexed Slovenia from Trieste in the second century. Milan declared that the relaxed and friendly atmosphere among the area's people was evidence of the warming social and climatic influence of the nearby Mediterranean over naturally conservative and somewhat chilly alpine instincts.

Tourists see the locals' ready smiles and enjoy the slow pace of life which belie the fact that Slovenia, as an associate member of the European Union, is desperately trying to modernise. Small family farms and vineyards are already in decline. Milan, who retrains the unemployed, said many farmers worked in factories in the morning and on their land in the afternoons to make ends meet.

His dream was to see Slovenia follow in the footsteps of the Irish Republic, whose electronics and software industries had boomed under EU assistance but had still kept its farming traditions.

Slovenia wants to be recognised as a peaceful, independent central European nation leaning towards the EU rather than the Balkans or eastern Europe - despite west Europeans frequently mistaking it for Slovakia or assuming it has been bombed to bits in the regional conflict.

Slovenia voted for independence from Yugoslavia in 1990. As the federation started to disintegrate, Slovenia suffered just 10 days of conflict when Yugoslav troops advanced, threatening total war - as would soon follow in Croatia. But the European Commission brokered a truce and Slovenia became the 176th member of the United Nations in 1992.

Tourism is growing. Cross-country and downhill skiing are popular, along with summer adventure sports such as rafting and kayaking on the crystal-clear rivers.

UK tour operators such as Thomson and Crystal come here and independent travel is easy and safe. But numbers are low because Slovenia is still heavily blighted by association with its shattered neighbours. Milan said indignantly: 'I can't believe British people think we are at war or they might be at risk. We have had peace here for 10 years.'

Looking around at the stunning, silent panorama in the crisp morning air, the sense of peace was deep and the only risk was of postponing the flight back and making a fortnight of it.

HIRE CAR: National Car Rental charges £200 for a Fiat Punto for a week.

ACCOMMODATION: Farmhouse rooms with the family Pekovec at 145 Stara Fuzina, £6 per person per night B&B; Planika Dom mountain hut on Triglav, £5 per person per night for a bunk; Kanin Hotel in Bovec (with sauna and indoor pool), £30 for a double/twin B&B; Park Hotel in Ljubljana, £25 for a double/twin B&B.

Typical 30pc discount on accommodation if staying three nights or more.

CURRENCY: The tolar is pegged to the Deutschmark. Change money on arrival.